


sweeter than candy canes

by mellostep



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, christmas eve confessions, i still dont know how to tag, making candy canes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:40:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellostep/pseuds/mellostep
Summary: Pining for his best friend isn't a situation George enjoys being in, much less when he wants to make candy canes with him, because that would mean being alone with Dream, and his overwhelming feelings for him.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 143





	sweeter than candy canes

**Author's Note:**

> i'm kinda proud of this, if i'm being honest. i do think my motivation dwindled towards the end (and it is slightly noticeable) though i do think it's still pretty cute. that being said, i hope you enjoy :]

It was almost seven in the evening when it dawned on George that it was Christmas Eve, the name given to the twenty-fourth of December melting on the tip of his tongue in a snowflake-like manner, his mouth curved upward and baring a grin similar to one of a giddy child. 

In hindsight, he should’ve realised it earlier. The lights that blinked from outside his window, bright decorations humming into the crisp winter air. The ever-so comforting trill of laughter through the thin walls of his townhouse should’ve been a dead giveaway, but George's thoughts were elsewhere. His mind, no matter how hard he’d like to deny it, lingered on the man who he’d deemed his best friend. 

He couldn’t help it, was George’s defense. He blamed it on the way Dream’s borderline brown, fluffy bangs sat atop his forehead, and the way his eyebrows would thinly press close whenever he was confused, and the way his gentle, rose-kissed lips would be drawn out in a wide grin before he’d break out into his familiar wheeze that would set George’s body aflame, and heart running a thousand miles per hour. He’d fallen, and he wasn’t quite sure if he was opposed to it or not.

George’s fingers traced the lining of his marble countertops, a small sigh escaping him. He’d been staring outside for quite some time now, and had begun to wonder if he’d develop astigmatism from the way his sight had firmly remained on the house in front of his own that bared various illuminated ornaments. 

He supposed it was his way of avoiding the pressing problem that he’d, unfortunately, been hurled into without warning. Any minute now, and his doorbell would ring, and George would be forced to drag himself not only out of his lovesick moping, out of his comfortable chair, and open the door for none other than the person who’d caused the hopeless flower of affection to blossom in the cavity of his chest. 

Despite his feelings of dread, he couldn’t bring himself to frown at the thought of seeing his best friend. Consolidated by his excitement for the rapidly approaching holiday and his undeniable fondness for Dream, the goofy grin that was at this point embedded into George's face deepened.

The doorbell rang. His knuckles whitened as he curled them further into his palms, nails just short of leaving a mark. He let the echo bounce off of the walls, against him, before heaving himself out of the false comfort he’d built around himself. His teeth sank into the soft flesh lining his mouth as his fingers curved around the doorknob. George was certain that if it wasn’t the middle of winter, they would’ve burned as if a fire raged from beyond the other side. 

“Dream,” a puff of cold air curled around George as he spoke the name of the man standing in front of him. The other smiled at the mention of his name. George's lungs practically shriveled, tightening a bit too much for his liking. “You look nice,” the words left his mouth before he’d realised.

George almost instinctively closed his eyes in embarrassment— almost. He was so glad he didn't. He watched as Dream’s cheeks flushed red, more than they already were from the chill that nipped at them. 

“I look good?” Dream echoed.

George pressed his mouth together in a thin line, drawing out a small hum from his throat— an indirect answer. 

“George,” the mentioned male nearly melted at the way his name was drawn out from his best friend's lips. His eyes met Dream’s, and the other continued, “if anyone looks good, it’s you,” warm green eyes darkened and he smiled warmly. 

George's heart sang; a hymn gentle, and full of adoration meant for him and Dream alone. He could’ve reached forward and kissed him, a possibility both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. But even so, what was stopping him but himself— and perhaps if he’d just taken the risk and done it, then it’d be alright, he’d be alright.

But he didn’t.

“You should come inside,” George breathed out, regret a beast eating away at his fragile insides. He was too aware of the way the tremor in his voice betrayed him, and if Dream noticed, he made no attempt to question it. 

The way the taller male’s shoulder brushed against his as he stepped forward at his beckon made George's heartstrings cry in agony, begging him to make a move. Red crawling across all of his features, yearning a saudade pool in his gaze. 

George knew Dream was a fire, but he’d endure a lifetime's worth of burns to twirl through the flames with him. 

A pair of faded emerald eyes met his brown, and for a moment George was sure he’d forgotten how to breathe, and despite the cool air that threatened to grow icicles on him, he could feel the inferno rage inside his chest.

“Are you going to stand there like an idiot and freeze, or—?” Dream asked, hints of a smirk creeping up on his face, never once moving his gaze from George. 

George might as well have melted, standing there in the doorway. A sharp inhale passed through him as he struggled to find the right words to respond. It was a question, that was all it was— and yet the sheer power that Dream’s words had over him, the way George's legs threatened to give way underneath him and send him falling deeper in love with him— he wasn’t sure how to handle it. 

He swallowed the burning feeling crawling up his throat. “i’m— yeah, sorry.” George watched as Dream's smile faltered for a moment, opening his mouth to apologise again, before Dream cut him off with a little chuckle and a shake of his head. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Dream said.

“Says you,” George retorted, his tone almost sickeningly affectionate.

He curled his fingers into a fist to prevent them from trembling as his hand brushed against the door. He was tempted to just keep it open, not wanting to turn around because then it’d just be him and Dream and the presence of his crush on him, alone. 

At least with his body facing away from Dream, he could have a small sense of deniability; he didn’t have to look at him and risk shrivelling under Dream’s stare. 

Much to his disappointment however, that wasn’t how things worked, and with the strength of his whole arm, he swung the door shut and turned to face Dream with as much feigned confidence as he could. After all, false bravado was better than nothing, and George intended to keep what could only be described as his puppy love a secret.

Dream had moved from his spot against the entrance wall, and had seated himself on a bar stool; the very one that George had been sitting on while thinking about him. 

“You wanted to bake today, right?” Dream shattered the silence that had surrounded them, leaving George unsure if he was thankful or not. 

“I— well I wanted to make candy canes, yeah,” George said, making his way over to the kitchen island in a few long strides. He made note of the way Dream’s eyes sparkled when he was confused, and the way his eyebrow quirked up just slightly enough to be noticeable. He smiled to himself, turning to face away from Dream, who huffed.

“Hang on, you can make candy canes?”

“You’re a dimwit,” George spun on his heel, and poked Dream right in the cheek. “Did you seriously not know that?” If George didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn he saw his best friend blush. 

“No I— Come on, that can’t be a thing. Seriously?” Dream’s tone was as confused as he looked, and George had to muster up all of his strength to not laugh in his face. 

“You are,” a snicker escaped through his words, “such a dumbass.” He turned back, and grabbed a spatula. “Now, are we going to start, or are you just going to sit there like a useless lump?”  
Dream leaned forward, his look of confusion replaced by a teasing smirk. “All you know how to do is insult me. You know what they said back in kindergarten, George?” Upon seeing George’s brows furrow and the little shake of his head, his expression turned mischievous. “They said if a boy teases you or insults you, it’s because they like you.”

For a moment, George didn’t know how to react. And then, his heart stuttered to a halt. The spatula slipped from his hand, the metallic sound of it hitting the floor flooding the air around them. The ringing came to a stop, and the pair were left in complete silence. George’s eyes were blown wide, and his cheeks rubescent.

“What the hell,” George’s words came out a breathless mess, “is wrong with you?”

Dream frowned, and drew back into his seat. He opened his mouth, ghosting over words that had long died in his throat. George’s eyes darkened as he watched Dream fidget with his hoodie strings for a moment, before looking up at him apologetically. 

“I didn’t— that’s not— shit,” Dream cursed, stumbling over his words. He took a sharp inhale in, before continuing, “I didn’t mean to cross over the line, that was a bad joke, I’m sorry.”

George shook his head, lip caught between his teeth. “It’s okay,” he said quietly. “It was just a joke, I overreacted.”

Dream’s eyes shone with guilt. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” George whined in an attempt to brighten the mood, “with your puppy eyes. They don’t work on me, you know.”

“Well they should, they work on everyone else,” Dream quipped, and heaved himself off of the chair. He slid himself next to George, and grabbed a tray from underneath him, earning an annoyed squeak from the shorter male.

“Ouch, watch where you’re swinging that tray,” George hissed, though his words held a playful tone. He stuck his tongue out at Dream, before continuing, “and as for my immunity to your puppy eyes, I’m just built different.”

“Ew, did you just say you’re ‘build different’ out loud?” 

“Yeah, what about it?”

“God,” Dream threw his head back slightly, laughter bubbling at his lips, “you are so dumb.”

They continued on, banter and laughter permeating the air around them. Soon they were covered in baking powder, the scent of mint and vanilla bouncing off of them, and the candy canes were done.

George took a step back to look over the candy canes. He bore a proud smile as he turned his head to look at Dream— who was staring right into his eyes.

“Dream?” His smile faltered for a second as he struggled to refrain from blushing. “Are you alright?”

‘I’m,’ Dream mouthed, but no sound came out. 

“What do you think?” George’s question was airy against the intense stare he was receiving from the taller male. 

“I think—” Dream took a step closer, gaze landing on George’s lips.

George felt his breath hitch as the other came closer, and closer, until he could feel the other breathing against his neck. The hairs stood up as Dream cocked his head down to his ear.

“I think that you should kiss me.”

What.

“Dream?” His voice was merely a hoarse whisper. His hands shook against the air as he slowly dragged them upwards; hesitant above Dream’s cheek.

“May I?” And who was George to deny him.

He closed the gap between them, a wordless response to Dream’s question. The way Dream melted perfectly against him, as if they were a mold and terracotta; meant for each other. 

Dream tasted like fire, earth, water, everything. He tasted like the stars, burning. George wanted more. He leaned closer, further deepening the kiss. The taste of mint strong on his tongue, he’d never be able to get enough of it. 

He drew back slowly, releasing Dream’s lower lip from the grasp of his teeth. George looked up at his best friend— if he could even be considered that anymore. He licked his lips, searching for something to say, anything.

Dream didn’t wait, he caught George’s lips in a kiss once more, this time more passionate, pouring out years worth of yearning into this moment. He sighed into George’s mouth, a shiver rippling down George’s spine.

“You,” he murmured against George’s lips, “that’s all I’ve wanted— ever.”

George pulled back, but kept their foreheads pressed. Beads of sweat slid down his face, glossing over his fully kissed lips. “I’m not good with words,” he admitted, chewing on the inside of his mouth.

“It’s alright,” Dream pressed a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth, before moving slightly and smiling against his cheek. “I know.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

George exhaled, a hum rumbling low in his throat. “Good. I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long”

Dream let out a small laugh. “Me too. God, you’re so pretty, you know that? I don’t know how I didn’t lose all control before.”

George hummed, already ruddy cheeks reddening more. “Says you,” he echoed words he’d said previously, when they’d been standing in the doorway— when the thought of kissing Dream had merely been a fantasy to George.

Dream pulled back fully, and grabbed George’s wrist. He tugged the shorter male towards the sofa, and pulled him down. George didn’t hesitate to curl himself against Dream’s chest, the latter placing an arm firmly around his waist as if to affirm him.

“I was scared to kiss you,” Dream admitted, to which George quirked an eyebrow.

“Really, you were afraid to kiss me?” He asked almost incredulously.

Dream hit him on the arm lightly, before pulling George’s hand close to his mouth and lightly peppering kisses onto his knuckles. “Yeah,” the vibration of his words travelled up George’s arm and straight into his heart, warming his body. 

“Well,” a puff of air escaped George’s nose, “I was scared to admit I had feelings at all, so I’m glad you did.”

“I’m glad I did too.”

“You tasted like candy canes,” George giggled, drawing his sleeve against his mouth to cover a yawn. 

“Did I?” Dream idly dragged a hand along George’s side, drawing small circles against his waist.

“It was sweet.”

“You’re sweet.”

“Shut up,” George pouted.

Dream pressed a kiss on his head, and buried his face into George’s hair.

It was almost ten at night when George remembered it was Christmas eve, the name given to the twenty-fourth of December, and now the name of the day he and Dream had confessed their feelings, albeit through actions and not words. The realisation melted in his mouth like a marshmallow dunked in the most sweet of hot cocoas, his mouth curved into a content smile as he lay, legs intertwined with Dream’s. 

For a day that he’d almost forgotten about, he’d say it had been pretty damn good.

**Author's Note:**

> if any cc's expresses being uncomfortable with anything mentioned in this fic, i will take it down without hesitation. 
> 
> i post snippets of future works / etc. on twitter, @karlnapnation


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